


Is it really just a card?

by UnZafiroEspumoso



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Insecure Lestrade, John Watson - Freeform, M/M, Mentioned Mrs Hudson, Minor Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Oblivious Mycroft, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnZafiroEspumoso/pseuds/UnZafiroEspumoso
Summary: Gregory isn’t a jealous man but he struggles to find what Mycroft sees in him. When he finds Mycroft one evening with Lady Smallwood’s personal number he can’t help but think the worse. Will his friends make him see sense before he does something he regrets? Set after the events of The Lying Detective but before The Final Problem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So this is my first ever attempt at writing fan fiction so I’m hoping everyone likes it. This started out as an idea I had after watching The Lying Detective and just kinda went from there. I have a lot of room for improvement so all comments are greatly appreciated as long as they are constructive! Enjoy!

Mycroft deftly twirled the card between the fingers of his left hand, his right hand curled around a glass of whiskey. It was early evening and for once he was home before it turned completely dark. A shy knock sounded from the doorway just as he was taking a sip of his drink. “Can I come in?” Greg asked in an equally shy manner, popping his head round the door. Since moving in with Mycroft several weeks ago, Greg had found that there was nowhere in the house that he was prohibited from entering, including Mycroft’s office. Despite this, Greg had gotten into the habit of asking before entering, lest he stumble upon some devastating state secret. “Of course Gregory” Mycroft answered smiling up at his boyfriend, amusement on his face. Greg smiled back and walked over to where Mycroft was seated, encircling him from behind. “How was your day?” Greg asked, while nuzzling softly into the crevice of his boyfriend’s neck. “Given the recent chain events I would say it has been rather quiet” Mycroft replied. Greg laughed softly planting small kisses on his jaw. Greg knew better than anyone the rough time his partner had had as of late, what with the Culverton Smith episode and Sherlock’s near self destruction. He had felt awful for not being able to see the signs and help Sherlock before things escalated the way they did. So to give his partner a break he was organising a surprise holiday for the two of them to celebrate 2 years together. Although, trying to surprise a Holmes with anything was a feat in itself. But Greg was confident that Anthea would have a few tricks up her sleeve to help him get it past Mycroft. 

Mycroft closed his eyes and shifted slightly in his seat allowing him to lean further back into Greg’s embrace. It was then that the card in Mycroft’s hand caught Greg’s attention. Frowning slightly, he reached over to pluck it from his fingers. His frown deepened as he saw Lady Alicia Smallwood’s name printed neatly across the top. “I thought you already had her number?” Greg asked bemused as he turned the card over to see if there was anything written on the back. Mycroft hummed, “yes so did I until she felt it necessary to give me her private one today”. Greg felt a cold tendril uncurl in his stomach. “Why did she give it you?” He asked, having a feeling there was a good chance he already knew the answer. “To have drinks apparently” Mycroft replied, his eyes still closed as he took another sip of his whiskey. “A drink of what?” Greg continued, unknowingly paralleling Mycroft’s words earlier that day. “Whatever I like” he replied smoothly, placing his glass back onto his desk. 

The cold feeling that had started as a small tendril was now beginning to creep up his spine. Greg swallowed trying to tamp down the panic he was beginning to feel. Why would Mycroft accept this card? Surely he knew why she wanted a drink with him, after all it didn’t require amazing deductive skills to know when someone was trying to make a move on you. Greg wasn’t a jealous man in any sense of the word but he knew his worth and for as long as he had been with Mycroft he couldn’t help but feel in some way inadequate. After all the man was incredibly intelligent and worked with the most elite people in the country on a daily basis. Whereas he was just an average, middle aged police officer who dealt with some of London’s most deplorable people on a daily basis.

He turned the card back over to Lady Smallwood’s number. He remembered having seen her once, a few months ago. Mycroft had been invited to attend a charity event by one of his work associates and had asked him to go along as his guest. As nice as the evening was Greg couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place. Where Mycroft oozed elegance and sophistication, Greg kept stumbling and fumbling. At one point he had gone to get drinks leaving Mycroft to talk some foreign ambassador. While he was at the bar he had bumped briefly into Lady Smallwood. The woman exhumed wealth and class and had left Greg fumbling for words. After when he told Mycroft about his embarrassing encounter the man had merely smiled and commented on how she was quite a force to be reckoned with. 

Greg glanced at the clock on the desk and saw that it read 18:30. His head felt a mess with all his previous insecurities and doubts deciding to rear their ugly heads. He needed some space to calm himself down before he did anything stupid. Placing the card back on the desk, Greg placed one last lingering kiss on Mycroft’s neck before pulling away. “Gregory?” Mycroft enquired softly, turning his head slightly to look up at him. “So I hope you don’t mind but some of the lads asked me to go watch the latest FA Cup match with them” he said trying to keep his voice steady. It wasn’t a lie, he really had been asked to join them only he hadn’t intended on taking up the offer. Mycroft gazed at him and Greg couldn’t help but wonder what he was deducing, hopefully not his insecurities he thought. “Of course I don’t mind Gregory” Mycroft replied smoothly, giving Greg a small smile.  
“Okay” he replied smiling back, feeling a small bit of annoyance that Mycroft had agreed so quickly. “So, I won’t be back late but don’t wait up” he said quickly before leaning over to give Mycroft a kiss. It wasn’t a quick kiss but Greg still found himself pulling away faster than he normally would. Mycroft deftly reached up to cup Greg’s face preventing him from drawing back too far, his hands still cold from the whiskey glass. He gazed up at Greg silently searching for something before pulling him back down for a slower, sweeter kiss. He tenderly let his hands caress Greg’s face before finally letting him go. “Have fun” he whispered, searching his face one last time. “I will” Greg replied almost shyly before retreating from Mycroft’s office and heading out into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the second chapter, I hadn't actually planned for this one but I decided last night that it would be good to get Mycroft's POV on the matter, enjoy!!

Mycroft sighed as he heard the faint sound of the front door closing. He leaned back in his chair immediately missing the feel of the solid inspector behind him. A cold draught drifted over his back and shoulders causing him to shiver despite himself, he wished fervently that he was still wrapped up in Greg’s warm embrace. A cold silence seemed to have descended upon the room, interrupted only by the ticking of the clock on his desk. A moment ago he had found the silence somewhat comforting, but now it left him feeling rather hollow. 

He let his eyes drift over to the card which Greg had placed back on the desk. He didn’t pick it up this time, instead he opted to pour himself another drink. To say he had been taken aback by Lady Smallwood’s brazenness in giving him her personal number was an understatement. Despite the fact that he had already begun to suspect her interest in him, he hadn’t been quite prepared for her blatant attempt at propositioning him. 

Leaning back in his chair, he thought back to earlier that month when he had been abruptly called away from a dinner party to deal with his brother’s sudden decision to wander through the streets of London. He remembered feeling slightly annoyed when he had entered the room to find that Lady Smallwood had already started monitoring his brother. It would be fair to say that their relationship hadn’t been exactly smooth since he had revoked her security clearance and proceeded to interrogate her on a tip off from Sherlock a few weeks ago. He was even more annoyed by the fact that she was still whining on about it, despite him having given her several very sincere apologies. She had once again decided to bring the matter up as she stood looking at the screen monitoring Sherlock. This time, instead of merely reciting another apology, he had decided to ask just what it was she wanted him to do for her to forgive him. He realised his mistake immediately when she had turned on him with an almost predatory smile and a devious shine in her eyes. Thankfully his brother’s sense of humour intervened before anything else could be said. Although outwardly he appeared exasperated at his brother’s antics, inwardly he was incredibly happy with Sherlock for giving him the means to escape her advances.

Unfortunately he hadn’t been so lucky earlier that day. He had been getting ready to go home when she had walked in to say goodbye to him before her holiday. It was then that she had surprised him by offering him her private number. There really wasn’t any way for him to refuse it without causing offence, and it would never be wise to insult someone like Lady Smallwood. So he had been left with no choice but to accept it and act bemused as she sauntered out of his office. It was only when she left did he realise the tricky predicament he was in. 

That was why earlier on he had being sitting twirling the card around his fingers, silently contemplating the situation. As far as he could see there were two possible options available to him, both of which had undesirable consequences. On the one hand, he could just ignore the number but that would likely result in her being insulted in which case he might as well have just refused the card in the first place. On the other hand, he could indeed call her to organise a drink. However, this too would probably end badly when she realised that a drink would be the only thing she would be getting. 

It was while these thoughts were running through his mind that Greg found him. The thought of Greg brought a soft smile to his face. The pair had being together for nearly two years, although Mycroft had been infatuated with the man a good while longer. Truth be told, he had fallen for the dashing inspector the first time he had met him. It had been late one evening in which Sherlock had turned up at one of Lestrade’s crime scenes, off his head on drugs and making wild deductions and accusations - which in the end turned out to be right. Either way, Mycroft was forced to put in an appearance as Sherlock was liable to get himself arrested again. It was there that he had met Lestrade for the first time. Despite many assertions to the contrary, Mycroft was not devoid of any emotions. Rather, he had learned how to mask them due to the nature of his work. Despite his attempts to appear neutral, Sherlock had still rolled his eyes when he noticed his brother’s attraction to the inspector. Mycroft had merely smiled stiffly and bungled Sherlock into the back of his car. It was then that Greg did something not many people could – surprise him. Instead of walking away and pretending like nothing had happened, he had instead approached Mycroft and offered him a deal. Greg could see the potential Sherlock had and so instead of writing him off as another junkie, had offered to help him get clean. If he was able to stay clean, he would in turn let him help out at the Yard. It was then that Mycroft realised how special Greg was. Not only was he gorgeous with his slightly rugged look, he was also unbelievably kind and caring, willing to take a chance on someone any other person would quickly discard. 

However at that point, much to Mycroft’s dismay, Greg was still married – even if it wasn’t entirely happy. So Mycroft had been forced to admire the inspector from afar, only occasionally being able to snatch small moments alone with him. Still, he had cherished every one of them. Then one evening, some considerable time later, Sherlock had texted him informing him of Lestrade’s divorce. He understood Sherlock's message, time to stop pining and actually make a move. So that’s what he did and the pair had been together ever since. 

Mycroft found his gaze dropping to the infernal card once more. Of course, he knew how sensitive Greg was - a result of his ex-wife’s near constant cheating. During those first tentative months of their relationship Greg had often been quite skittish, believing Mycroft would somehow wake up one morning and decide he could do better. Mycroft found this idea completely ridiculous. As far as he was concerned, there was no one more perfect than Gregory. He hated how often his partner would often depreciate himself. Therefore, he had endeavoured to spend the last two years showing him just how perfect a partner he was and how there could never be anyone else for him. 

Despite this, he couldn’t help but worry that his boyfriend still held those fears. He looked up at the doorway, which less than half an hour ago had seen Greg scuttling through it, moving as though he couldn’t get out of the room quick enough. He was fairly certain that his sudden departure was at least in part due to the card. Thinking back, he wished he hadn’t had agreed to Greg going to watch the match so quickly. He had been so distracted by the Lady Smallwood situation that he hadn’t really thought of the effect finding him with her number may have had on Gregory. He sighed once more, draining his glass for the second time. He contemplated pouring a third but decided against it – getting drunk really wouldn’t help things. Instead, he stood up and stretched. As comfortable as his chair was he had no intention of staying in his office all night, the silence had become far too overbearing. Resigned to the fact that there was nothing he could do now apart from wait for his partner’s return, Mycroft retreated to the living room. Once there he settled himself on the settee and turned on the TV, anxiously awaiting his boyfriend's return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos I've been receiving - all are much loved!


	3. Chapter 3

Greg stood on the edge of the pavement, the cool air rustling his clothes. It was 22:00 and the night had turned incredibly bitter. He pulled his coat around himself in a vain attempt to shut out the wind, wishing desperately that he had grabbed his scarf and hat on the way out. He had indeed gone to watch the match at the pub in which Premiership side Liverpool experienced a shock defeat at the hands of Doncaster Rovers. While the rest of his colleagues had spent most of the evening drinking and cheering on the underdogs, Greg had sat rather gloomily staring into his pint. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the game, he found his thoughts kept returning to that card. He couldn’t help but wonder if Mycroft had called her yet to arrange a drink and what that would mean for their relationship.

That was exactly the reason why he found himself where he was now, stood freezing outside on the street debating what to do. Suddenly, he was startled out of his stupor by the sound of his phone ringing. He answered it without looking at the caller ID, expecting to hear Mycroft’s rich tones asking where he was. “Are you going to come up Lestrade or are you going to continue to scare the neighbours by hovering outside like a burglar all night” a silky voice came over the phone. Definitely not Mycroft, Greg thought as he glanced up to look at the window of one of the flats on the street. He could just about make out the tall silhouette of someone stood conveniently just out of view. Decision made for him, he pocketed his phone and made his way inside and up to Sherlock and John’s flat. 

“Lestrade” Sherlock greeted the inspector upon his entry, fixing him with a look over his steepled fingers. It was a look which was not dissimilar to one that Mycroft would sometimes give him, they really are quite alike Greg found himself thinking. “Sherlock” Greg replied with a nod, before stopping slightly awkward in the middle of the room. He felt Sherlock’s deductive gaze sweep over him and wondered, not for the first time that evening, if he had made the right decision coming here. “Greg” John said warmly as he came out of the kitchen drying his hands on a tea-towel. “This is a surprise, are you alright?” he asked, a slight hint of worry creeping into his voice as he took in the sight of the slightly dishevelled inspector. 

“Yeah fine, I was just in the area…” he trailed off at the accessing look on Sherlock’s face and sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. Really what was he going to say to account for his late night visit?

“Well, have a seat can I get you something to drink?” The doctor asked him kindly, ignoring Greg’s feeble attempt to make up some excuse for his unexpected arrival. 

“A tea please, if that’s alright” He replied tiredly, finally easing himself down into a seat so he was facing Sherlock with his back to the door. 

“Of course” John smiled at him before raising a questioning eyebrow at Sherlock who had finally stopped scrutinizing Greg and was now messing around on his phone. Greg settled himself into the chair and watched as John went to make them something to drink. As he waited, he felt a semblance of calm wash over him. Although he still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to the detective he felt sure that he had made the right decision in coming to see him for help.

A little while later the three of them were all settled down with a cup of tea and some biscuits courtesy of Mrs Hudson. She had come up not too long ago having been wondering what all the sudden fuss was about. At the sight of Greg, she had quickly disappeared back downstairs before returning with a big box of chocolate biscuits. According to her, tea and biscuits were the sure fire solution to help solve any problem. Slowly, as Greg drank his tea and ate his biscuits, he felt his thoughts begin to unjumble. The more he thought about it, the more he figured he was probably just reading too much into everything.

Sherlock by now had placed his tea back on the table and was looking at Greg expectantly. Well, he thought to himself, he was here now and it would probably do him some good to voice his fears to somebody - even in that somebody was Sherlock. With the saying in for a penny, in for a pound going through his head, he drew a breath started to talk. “I’m sorry if I’m wasting your time, I’m probably just being daft”.

“Don’t worry Lestrade, the majority of people who come here are increasingly idiotic yet we still listen to them so please take your time” Sherlock interrupted earning himself a look from John.

“What Sherlock means to say is that we are here for you no matter what the dilemma, as friends” John amended, smiling at Greg. Perhaps it was John’s kind tone, or just the aching need he had to confide in somebody, but that was how he found himself bearing his heart to the unsuspecting pair. He explained about the card and how he always knew something like this would happen in the end. After all, what did Greg have to offer Mycroft? He wasn’t rich or powerful so he was no attribute to him politically. Nor was he overly good looking with his grey hair and slightly out of shape body. He was sure Mycroft could do better, just look at Lady Smallwood she even had a title. The only title he had was employee of the month and even that wasn’t overly impressive when you were up against people like Anderson. 

John sat there the whole while, smiling at Greg and gently encouraging him to carry on when he found himself struggling for words. Sherlock meanwhile sat looking at Greg with intense eyes. To his credit, he didn’t cringe or snort at every mention of his brother like he normally would. Instead his face held a somewhat sympathetic gaze which at one point shifted so it was directed slightly over Lestrade’s head. Gradually Greg found himself running out of steam and opted to take a drink of tea to give him the chance to compose himself. 

“Have you said any of this to Mycroft?” John offered, as Greg drained the last of his tea.

“Of course he hasn’t or why would he be here?” Sherlock replied for Greg, his gaze still focused just above the inspector. Greg sighed, once again rubbing his head in his hand. He directed a look at Sherlock, “I’m surprised you’re not having a fit considering I’ve spoken solely about your brother for the last half hour”. This at least earned him a chuckle from the detective. 

“Although I find my brother trying at the best of times this has much more to do with you than him. As you’re the only detective at the Yard with whom I am prepared to work I need you at optimum efficiency. Therefore I am willing to endure your little moment of panic if that is what it will take for you to return to normal before Monday.” 

John glared at Sherlock who in return directed a confused “what” look at him. “What Sherlock means to say is…” John started but was cut off by Greg who, in spite of Sherlock’s speech, couldn’t quite keep from feeling a certain fondness towards the detective and his slightly strange way of expressing affection – some people never change he thought. “It’s fine John really, I guess I should be happy with the amount of time I’ve had with Mycroft. How long does someone’s bit of rough last for anyway?” He finished, placing his cup on the table. 

“Is that what you think you are” a soft, rich voice inquired from the doorway. Greg felt himself freeze, glad that he had just put his cup down. He didn’t need to turn round to know who the voice belonged to, or that he had heard everything he had said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the penultimate chapter, I can't believe it's nearly the end! I had originally intended for this to be the last one but I've just started on a little epilogue for it. As always I hope you enjoy!

After what seemed like an eternity Greg found himself able to turn towards the doorway where Mycroft stood pristine as ever.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice croaking with a sudden dryness. 

“Sherlock messaged me a while ago, told me I needed to come over, said it was urgent” Mycroft replied, his gaze never leaving Greg’s as he moved slightly further into the room, slightly closer to Greg.

Greg found himself searching Mycroft’s face for reproach. Although he was maintaining a somewhat neutral appearance, he knew Mycroft well enough to be able the sadness that tinged the corner of his eyes.

Greg swallowed and forced himself to turn back to look at Sherlock, his confusion plain on his face. He knew how long it took to get from Mycroft’s home to Sherlock’s flat. For Mycroft to have got here in time to hear everything that was said, Sherlock would have had to have called Mycroft as soon as he had arrived.

“Oh don’t look so surprised Lestrade what did you expect me to do?” Sherlock inquired. 

“Sherlock, how did you know to call Mycroft? Maybe I was here on a case?” 

Sherlock allowed himself a wry smile fully expecting Lestrade’s question. He stood up and walked over to the window before launching into his explanation. “I watched you pace up and down the street several times” he said whilst pointing outside to the street below the flat to emphasise his point. “Clearly something had agitated you so much so that you decided to come see me for help. However, when getting here you couldn’t decide whether or not you actually wanted my help or if I would give it to you hence the loitering outside.”

“So that’s why you spent half an hour staring out the window, I thought you’d gone mad” John muttered. Sherlock spared him a glance before continuing. “It’s cold outside tonight with snow being forecast and yet you’re only wearing a thin coat with no hat or scarf, so you must have left in a hurry. Now, I know you don’t have any pressing cases at the minute which would require your immediate attention therefore it wasn't likely you were here for something work related. The only other reason to explain your dishevelled and slightly desperate state would be something having gone off at home. Coupled with everything I’ve mentioned it wasn’t a far stretch to conclude that something had happened between yourself and my brother hence me messaging Mycroft”. 

There was a ringing silence in the room as Sherlock finished his explanation, a pleased look on his face. Greg was staring into the hearth wishing the ground would swallow him up. He still had his back to Mycroft but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of his gaze. It was John who moved first, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair and moving to pull Sherlock towards the door. “Right, we are going for a walk” he announced much to Sherlock’s chagrin.

“John have you seen how cold it is outside!” The detective protested but John ignored him throwing him his hat.

“Put it on, you won’t be cold then” John remarked before disappearing out the door followed quickly by a grumbling Sherlock. 

With the two of them gone the silence seemed to stretch on, Greg was even more aware of it now that it was just him and Mycroft in the room. He jumped slightly upon hearing a rustling sound behind him as Mycroft moved to sit down in John’s recently vacated chair. He carefully propped his umbrella up before placing his head in his hands. Greg took in Mycroft’s stature, for once the imposing man seemed somewhat vulnerable. Deciding that Mycroft wouldn’t be the first one to talk, he took one final calming breath before stating, “it’s fine Mycroft. I get it you don’t need to explain”. 

“No Gregory you don’t” Mycroft said and looked up at Greg, an expression that could only be described as pained upon his face. It was a look which Greg had never seen before and it cut to his core making him want to an embrace the man sat opposite him. “I should have chucked that card away before I got home, I certainly didn’t want it. But Lady Smallwood is someone I have to work closely with, it would not do to go offending her especially since I revoked her security access not long back” Mycroft said, voice barely above a whisper. Slowly, Greg started to digest what Mycroft was saying. “I knew that card had affected you but I didn’t realise how much. I am sorry I didn’t realise, I know that I should have. I always just assumed you knew how much you mean to me” Mycroft finished, the use of the present tense not slipping past Gregory. 

“Myc, I do know” Greg replied, his nickname for Mycroft automatically slipping through his lips. “It’s just I don’t get what you see in me when you could have someone like Lady Smallwood. I mean look at her, I’m not a thing like her. I can’t offer you what she can”. Greg retorted, his hand waving in the air for emphasis. Mycroft sat silent for a moment, carefully contemplating his next words. 

“You’re right Gregory. You aren’t a thing like her. You aren’t selfish or power hungry. You aren’t cold or calculating. You do not wish to be with me solely for the reason of furthering your career”. Mycroft stood gracefully from the chair, his gaze never leaving Greg’s as he continued. “You aren’t sly or cunning. You are neither manipulative nor pretentious. You are not self- centred and spoilt”. Greg felt his throat start to tighten as the weight of Mycroft’s words began to hit him. He felt himself stand up at Mycroft’s approach. 

“Do you want to know what you are?” Mycroft asked softly, stopping just within touching distance. Greg felt his pulse quicken at Mycroft’s sudden proximity, he nodded his head not trusting his voice. 

“You, Gregory, are the most honourable man I have ever met. You are kind, thoughtful and loyal, traits which are very hard to find in a person nowadays. You did something I never thought anybody ever would, do you know what that is?” Greg shook his head slowly in reply to Mycroft's question, still not trusting his voice. 

“You surprised me. You surprised me by taking the time to get to know me, to look beyond the cold veneer that I have to have. I never thought anyone would have the time or the compassion to do such a thing but you Gregory, you did”. Greg felt tears prick the corner the corner of his eyes at his partner’s words. Tentatively, Mycroft reached out to cup Greg’s face.

“You mean the world to me Gregory Lestrade, I love you”. Mycroft finished, his voice a silky whisper. The breath caught in Greg’s throat at those three words. Despite being together for so long, they had yet to say that to each other. It wasn't that Greg didn't want to but rather he wasn't sure if Mycroft wanted him too. He knew that Mycroft valued actions over words, and he had shown Greg the depth of his affections on several occasions. Still, to actually hear those words from his partner left Greg breathless. 

“I love you too, Myc” he replied when he finally caught his breath. “I love you so much” he finished, desperately reaching for his partner and pulling him into a blinding kiss. Mycroft held him strong, as Greg placed devastating kisses upon him. Mycroft pulled him gently, leading them to collapse gracefully into one of the chairs. Greg pulled back slightly so he could look his lover in the eye. 

“I’m sorry for being an idiot Myc” he said apologetically.

“My dear, you are not an idiot in any sense of the word. This was my fault” Mycroft replied, his voice laced with endearment. 

“Still, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I should have trusted you.” He replied with a sigh “I do trust you Myc”. 

“I know you do Gregory, I have never doubted your trust me. Come now, please don’t start beating yourself up again” Mycroft replied tenderly, stroking Greg’s face with the back of his hand allowing him to wipe away the tears Greg didn’t know he had shed.

“Alright, I’ll try. But what are you going to do about Lady Smallwood?” He asked as he leaned into his partners’ gentle touch. 

“I have a number of ideas, I’m sure we can decide on one of them” Mycroft replied with a smile. 

“We?” Greg asked perplexed, furrowing his brow. 

“Yes, we, Gregory - after all my ideas involve the pair of us. Now what’s say we forgot about Lady Smallwood for the time being” Mycroft answered as a mischievous smile crossing his face. 

Greg chuckled and raised an eye brow. “I think I’d be amenable to that” he replied as he leaned forward to start planting kisses along Mycroft’s jaw. Mycroft shifted tipping his head back to allow his partner better access.

“How long do you think their walk will last” Greg whispered huskily into his lover’s ear. 

“I estimate another 20 minutes… possibly 30” Mycroft answered, a slight tremble to his voice as he threaded his hands in Greg’s luscious grey hair.

“Well then, we had better be quick” Greg remarked cheekily, biting gently on Mycroft’s ear lobe. 

By the time Sherlock and John returned from their walk, in which Sherlock moaned the entire time, Mycroft and Greg had already gone. “Really John, it’s amazing I haven’t frozen to death” Sherlock grumbled as he trudged up the stairs.

“Well at least we would have some peace and quiet if you did” John muttered under his breath as he trailed behind Sherlock up the stairs. 

“Are you boys alright” came the worried tones of Mrs Hudson who was calling up the stairs after the pair of them. “Yes, we are absolutely fine Mrs Hudson - we just fancied a quick walk” John said as he turned around on the stairs to give her a reassuring smile. “But it’s so cold outside, couldn’t you have just come down here while you left Mycroft and Greg to make up” she asked, a mild bit of annoyance in her voice. “Well, I suppose we could have but like I said we are absolutely…”

“JOHN! Where is the bleach?!” Sherlock bellowed. 

John glanced from Mrs Hudson, up to the door of the flat and then back at Mrs Hudson. “If you could just give me a minute Mrs H” he said quickly, before running up the stairs after Sherlock. Upon his entry into the room he was confronted with a rather disgruntled detective, throwing open drawers and chucking things around like a maniac. 

“Sherlock! What the hell are you doing?” John shouted, throwing his hands up in the air.

“What does it look like I’m doing, knitting a jumper?” Sherlock retorted as he pushed past John into the kitchen.

“Sherlock” John said firmly.

“I’m looking for the bleach so I can burn the image of my brother and Lestrade having it off in my chair!” Sherlock said leaving John speechless, as he stormed past him once again and disappeared into the bathroom. 

John followed him so far as the living room, which to him looked exactly like they had left it. He wandered over to Sherlock’s chair, curiosity getting the better of him. John shook his head a smile crossing his face, it looked perfectly normal to him. He was about to go and stop Sherlock ripping the flat apart when the corner of something white sticking out from under the leg of the chair caught his eye. Intrigued he bent down and carefully eased the piece of paper, which was in fact a card, out from under the chair. 

“Sherlock” he shouted as he read what was on the card.

“What is it John, I am incredibly busy” Sherlock shouted back angrily, banging about in the bathroom.

“I think you should see this while you still have your eyes” he replied holding up the card between his fingers and out towards Sherlock who was poking his head around the door. Scowling, Sherlock made his way across the room, gingerly taking the outstretched card. It was a plain white business card blank on one side. On the other side, however, there were two neatly written words in Mycroft’s hand writing. 

“Well” John said, his arms crossed looking patiently at Sherlock who was contemplating the card. 

“Alright, maybe my reaction was a little rash” Sherlock conceded as he handed it back to John. “But my chair will still have to be fumigated” he finished before going into the kitchen to put the kettle on. 

John smirked to himself as he looked down at the card and the words written on it, wondering how hard it had been for Mycroft to write them down. “John, where are the tea bags?” Sherlock shouted leaving John rolling his eyes. He placed the card on the table with the words "Thank You" facing upwards into the room, before going to help Sherlock with the tea.


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, here is the little epilogue I have been working on. It's up much later than I expected it to be but blame that on my exams and my computer breaking. As always, enjoy!

Greg sighed contentedly as he reclined further back into the ridiculously comfy deck chair, basking in the warmth of the heat around him. He stretched languorously as he felt the French sun wash over his slightly tanned skin. He was sat on the little patio at the back of what used to be his grandparents villa in the south of France. The patio was small but quaint with plants covering every available space, some of which Greg remembered helping his grandmother to plant back when he was little. A warm smile played over his lips as he thought back to his childhood days of visiting his family out here. He was startled slightly out of his reverie at the feeling of something cold being pushed into his hand. Blinking up blearily, his smile grew as Mycroft gazing fondly down at him came into focus. He looked down to his hand, which was still cold, and realised it was a result of his partner pushing what looked to be an ice cold gin and tonic into it. 

"You looked hot out here, thought you could do with some refreshment" Mycroft said almost shyly. 

"Thank you" Greg replied taking a long sip of his drink, which was of course made to perfection. "Didn't realise how thirsty I was" he added, as he placed the near empty glass on the table next to him before settling back down. 

"You should be careful laying out here all day, it's easy to be tricked into getting dehydrated" Mycroft replied, settling himself into one the deck chairs next to Greg. 

"Mmmhmm" Greg hummed in return, his gaze settling lightly on Mycroft. They were halfway through their two week anniversary holiday which Greg had somehow managed to organise without Mycroft finding out about it. Although, Greg was under no delusion that in reality it had been mainly thanks to Anthea that he had been able to pull off the surprise. She had very helpfully kept Mycroft busy by scheduling in lots of meetings and paper work in the weeks before the holiday. At the time Mycroft had been close to firing her for suddenly making his life so busy with work, but instead had ended up sending her a large bouquet of flowers when her ulterior motive had been revealed to him.

Mycroft caught Greg's eye and smiled warmly at him. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and looked so far removed his normal look that Greg wasn't sure if his partner had been replaced by some sort of robot. Of course, he knew he hadn't but it never ceased to amaze Greg how different his partner was when he wasn't busy being the government or cleaning up after Sherlock. A lump formed in his throat as he realised how he was the only person who got to see the vulnerable, human side of Mycroft. He reached out almost desperately for his partner, suddenly craving his touch as a rush of emotion washed over him. Mycroft in return quickly grasped his hand and entwined their fingers together, somehow understanding what it was that Greg wanted. 

Greg smiled again and took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut. He was vaguely aware of his mind drifting back to a few weeks ago, to the Lady Smallwood debacle. In the end it had been quite an anticlimactic finish, which was strange considering all the trouble that that little card had caused. Mycroft had run several scenarios past him and they had both decided on the same one. It was quite simple really, Greg had called Lady Smallwood up one evening introducing himself as Mycroft's partner and offering a day for the three of them to go for drinks. Lady Smallwood, to her credit, made no apparent fuss over the phone but nonetheless politely declined the offer, citing how she was actually rather busy looking after her mother. When she returned to work the following week, she made no mention to Mycroft about her conversation with Greg, but neither did she make any more attempts to proposition him. Greg smiled at the thought of the whole misunderstanding being behind them. 

"What are you smiling at" Mycroft asked softly, so soft in fact that Greg nearly didn't hear him.

"You, us" he replied, opening his eyes so he could look his partner in the face. 

"Hmm, what about us" Mycroft prompted, his own eyes gazing lovingly back. 

"I love you" Greg whispered surprising himself with his open display of affection, he was sure he hadn't meant to say that. Mycroft eye's opened slightly wider but he squeezed Greg's hand reassuringly. Greg got the message, even though Mycroft had yet to repeat the words he had said that evening in Sherlock's flat, he had been left in no doubt about the way Mycroft felt for him. Thinking of Sherlock, Greg wondered how the detective was getting on. It had been a week since Greg had last heard from him, which was just as well as he was having a hard time looking the detective in the eye since getting frisky with Mycroft in his chair. He remembered the look Sherlock had given him the first time he had seen him since the incident. It had been at one of Greg's crime scenes and if looks could kill Greg was sure there would have been another body for Anderson to examine. But, beneath the disapproving gaze the detective had given him, he was sure there had been a hint of fondness at his and Mycroft's happiness. 

As Greg drifted slowly off into a light doze he heard Mycroft move his chair so that it was flush next to Greg's. Then, he felt the strong reassuring arm of his lover encircle him and a soft brush of lips against his temple. He didn't need to be able to hear the three words spoken softly by Mycroft. 

****

"You know Sherlock, would it kill you to clean up after yourself?" John's exasperated voice drifted from the kitchen. Sherlock didn't bother to reply, although a small wry smile crossed his face. He was finally sitting on his own chair again, although it had been covered in a thin plastic sheet. "Thank you" he said politely, as John placed the tray of tea on the table in front of him. Sherlock sat forward slightly so he could add some sugar to his drink, the movement causing the plastic cover to rustle. 

"I don't know why you don't just get a new chair" John said, as he plonked himself down into his own chair. 

"I told you why, I like this one" Sherlock replied with a slight frown as he took a sip of his tea.

"I know you do Sherlock, but every time you move it sounds like a packet of crisps being opened" John sighed. Sherlock reached to place his tea back on the table, once again causing the plastic to rustle. "I'm sorry John, but you know I am unable to remove the cover" Sherlock replied as he made himself comfy.

John rolled his eyes, "Sherlock, you've had it fumigated three times now. Anymore and the pattern will wear off it". 

"Yes, well how would you feel if it was your chair that had been defaced in such a way" Sherlock retorted back, a scowl having set on his face.

"I would get a new chair" he replied brightly, enjoying the grumpy look on Sherlock's face as he took a long drink of tea. "Or, I would get my own back" John added mischievously. This caused Sherlock's eyes to light up and he flung himself upwards out of the chair. John was momentarily stunned by Sherlock's sudden change in demeanour but was quickly brought back to reality as he too was hurled to his feet and pushed towards the door. "Sherlock? What the hell" John shouted, rather disgruntled at nearly spilling his tea all over his jumper. "John Watson, you are a genius" he replied as he hurried John down the stairs and past a bewildered Mrs Hudson who had been cleaning the hallway. 

"Are you boys going out?" she called after them. Sherlock turned around to face her, a Cheshire cat smile across his face. "Yes, Mrs Hudson we are don't wait up we may a while" he informed her before following John out of the door. "Do you have your keys, I'm not leaving the door unlocked all night" she shouted after Sherlock. 

"No Mrs Hudson I don't need any keys" he said as he flagged down a passing taxi. "I know the codes to his flat" he added under his breath as he bundled John and himself inside the taxi, looking forward to the week ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is my first Fan fiction finished! I had such a good time writing this and I want to say thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos, they really motivated me and encouraged me to keep writing! I hope you all enjoyed it and who knows maybe I'll decide to write another one!


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